To Train a Vampire
by Strlyte
Summary: Kayla stumbled into Forks as a young, bloodthirsty vampire with secrets and extraordinary powers. She is more than what meets the eye, and isn't eager for the life the Cullens' lead. Can they train this vampire? -Takes place before Twilight series-


To Train a Vampire

**Chapter One-Discovery**

"Kayla? Kayla, you really should get out of the dark for once. You haven't stepped into the sunlight for days, since that guy mauled us. You should...you're depressed. You need some company."

I sniffed, too confident in myself to listen to my friend. I caught the whiff, however, a feat I had tried hard enough to avoid. No... the temptation was too great. I had tried hard enough to not breathe. I had tried not to hurt my friends. I had tried not to think of them as dinner, or a snack, or prey, or me as their worst nightmare. No—they had no idea what was a _real_ nightmare...they didn't know half of the terror that could come upon them, stalk them down, and leave them to either writhe in pain or end them permanently. I knew that.

I bit the pain in my throat, my never satisfied throat, and felt my hands push my beautiful new body up.

"Kayla? Kayla-"

The voice pierced my ears, hearing the crack and fright in every syllable of my name. I tried not to grin as I slowly entered the sunlight, my rock hard skin sparkling.

Anna started screaming before I lunged.

I sighed happily.

The corpse of a human—nameless to me, I cared nothing for them anymore besides their contentment to my craving—lay at my feet. The taste of its blood lingered on my tongue, my crimson eyes bright and alert. I was much more attentive after a kill.

The small clearing of forest where I lay smelled strongly...of blood, tantalizing to my nose, and death, satisfying to my pleasure. I breathed in; I needed to breathe at the moment, to catch ever scent that lingered and ever fragrance that humans missed. That _I_ had once missed.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder. My laptop and change of clothes lay in there. Food was...unnecessary, thus there was none in there; money was not needed when one could steal, and the laptop computer was for my pleasure. It was the last bit of my original life that I treasured, and I kept it safely on my back.

Standing, I wished I could see where I was.

I could go into a town. If I listened hard enough, I could hear people talking in muffled voices, as if they didn't want anyone to hear, and then break out in a joyous round of laughter. I heard a few cars on a road, slowly making their way to their destination, wildly swerving around the road—as if the car would just stop in the middle of the road and break down, collapse, and fall into a million pieces. How ungraceful and clumsy everything seemed to be! The sleek sports cars I had once watched gleefully speed down a highway were now nowhere near the posture and grace of a vampire. I needed the speed and grace of my own kind...

I wasn't thirsty. I knew that. Finding the nearest town would be...for the better, perhaps. I could find out where I was and what I could do. Temptation would be ignored, for the moment. I couldn't stay long.

I sniffed delicately. My evenly muscled body stretched, out of habit though I did not need to, and walked towards the fragrance of humans and sounds of their activity.

I shouldn't say "walk"—humans would think of it as a bolt.

My legs pulsed with excitement at the usual speed and burst of energy, the movement that seemed normal. Trees and stumps, streams and springs, rocks and boulders littered the ground below me, while the dark grey of thick overcast skies blurred above me. I saw them with such clarity; then before I knew it, they were gone. I had run past them in no less than half a second.

The town came quickly enough; the exhilaration of running whipped through me where exhaustion should have been. I eyed the town in a short moment, and carefully pulling together a story if need be, I crossed the road.

Everything was green; I had traveled through thick vegetation, several streams and water gushing through the ground. The road was small and badly taken care of, with plants popping up through the asphalt laid probably a half a century ago. The painted lines were faint and I couldn't decide if it was a yellow or white line that ran through the center.

The road was close to the forest, and near to the town; in fact, if a row of trees had not been in my path from what seemed to lead to Main Street, I may have been discovered or noticed.

Collecting my wits and reminding myself to act human, I tried to stumble through the woods as if I was in search hopelessly of the town. I went through the trees, carefully making my way to the road at a slow, snail speed compared to my running a few seconds before, and entered the town.

If it was a road, this town, it would be the one that lead to it.

Perhaps five or six houses, with peeling paint and broken windows, lay on either side of the road. Two stories, creaky, old, each a different color that once would have been bright, the houses lay comfortably on the land as if they had rested there since the beginning of time--looking at their shape and the crummy condition they were each in, it wouldn't have been too shocking if they had. One had a porch, the one across from it two large indented windows in its side, another with a flat roof on top instead of a pointed one. They were...happy houses. Like old grannies sitting around telling stories to youngsters who surrounded them.

These grannies were not surrounded by youngsters, however. Instead, their husbands—old grandpas—lay a few feet from the women; a general store, a barber shop, a garage with an ancient car in its driveway, and a few other small businesses. What a quaint, old little town. In the middle of nowhere.

My eyes focused on the town, noticing every detail that humans wouldn't take in. The first house on the right was built crooked. The flower garden in front of the last house on he left was about an inch from the foundation the whole way around the house-somehow had patience and a green thumb. The store's sign had exactly forty three peeled paint remnants on the word "general". My human attributes were lost in my absorbed attention to the town. I stayed perfectly still. I forget to breathe. I didn't shift feet. I didn't blink. My mouth remained in its curved line.

"Miss? Can I...help you?"

I was not surprised by the voice, but remembering the human traits I needed, I pretended to be.

I knew I had an air tense feeling around me, and the elderly folk that had spoken to me from the porch of the store looked like they had seen a ghost...ah, they had seen much worse. I tried to make them feel better, and smiled as warmly as I could (not showing my teeth, of course. They weren't fangs, but still...).

"Help? Oh, yes, help would be nice..."

I trailed off, and started towards the porch where a wrinkled, older woman with puffed white hair, who had asked me the question, stood next to her husband. He was tall, wrinkled as well, and looked as if he had stood through every twister and hurricane nature had thrown at the world—stiff and firm. I hoped not superstitious.

The backed a small step backwards that they hoped I wouldn't notice. I did, and feeling bad, lowered my smile into a saddened curve downward.

My jeans were splattered with mud—not from running, but from sitting, but no doubt could be assumed it was from running. My shirt was one of the older ones I owned that I hunted in, smelled a bit of blood, and had a few rips in it. I could pass as I was lost.

"I've been lost for days...I was walking through the woods just for fun, you know, a simple walk, or hike, and before you know it..." I looked away, brushing away an invisible tear. "It was supposed to be a short cut to school, and it turned into a helpless wander!"

The old woman's face softened, and reached out her hand carefully as if to touch me and comfort me, but the man pulled her back. His face was still harsh and solid. No doubt he _had_ been through all those twisters and hurricanes. He was stock still and pale in front of a vampire...I had a feeling he didn't like me. But did he know specifically what I was?

"Don't touch her, Charlene," he whispered in her ear, too low for human ears. "I don't like her...I just have a nasty feeling about her. The birds stopped singing when she entered town, and I felt downright scared just looking at her. We shouldn't help her."

"Harry!" The old woman exclaimed, loud enough for human ears this time, and was shushed by her husband. "No doubt she is a little strange, but you're being ridiculous! She's lost, nearly starved, and scared. We should help her!"

"No."

Charlene sighed. "I'm sorry, dear, my husband just had to tell me he needs to tend to work in the store—"She glared at him."—so he will be right back. You poor thing! Why, your clothes are muddy and ripped, your bag is filthy, you're a mess! You should take a shower, and I'll wash your clothes, but first you should eat, and oh! My, you must be tired!"

I smiled, sweetly and kindly as Harry trudged through the screen door into the store unwillingly. "I honestly need directions, that's all. I really am quite a clean person no matter what, and I slept last night very well, and I'm not hungry. I just need a map."

She insisted I come into the store. I agreed...but honestly, my thirst was coming back just the slightest bit and she smelled delicious. Human scents wafted out of the store as she opened the door like a turkey marinating in a bustling thanksgiving kitchen. I really didn't want to kill this nice, old lady who was helping me, or her friends or relatives who lived here as well. It made me feel guilty, but I suppressed a smile and followed her. I made sure she didn't touch me by the agile movements before her hand could scrape across my cold, shocking skin. Charlene would insist on a hot bath or cocoa...and I didn't need either. I needed a _map_.

"Ladies, this poor girl wandered into our town..." Though I could hear every word she said as I walked into the small store, I tuned Charlene's words out and focused on what surrounded me. The floor and walls were made of wood, old and splintering wood, but steady despite its years. The decent sized store had a few wire "aisles" of merchandise and a small freezer of dairy products and vegetables thrown into a small selection, surrounded by large, framed pictures of smiling old people. In the very center of the room was a huge, round table, surrounded by odd chairs and stools, and occupied by six women.

Five were old and similar to Charlene; they had the same wrinkled skin and puffy white hair, but each were different; Tabitha had crinkled eyes that were always laughing mischievously—she was obviously the troublemaker; Ginny's hands were small and delicate, always moving through her crocheted patterns, and her mouth seemed as if it was permanently closed; Charlotte had a wide grin on her face, dimples and all; Marybeth wore an old apron, tattered at the seams and ready to fall off the woman at any moment, and was completely made out of inch sized squares of mismatched fabric; and last of the old ladies was Denise, who listened to everything with a solemn face of true understanding and agreement, with the slightest bit of a creased brow.

The last one was a young woman, in her late twenties or early thirties, Wren, who laughed with a beautiful tinkling sound, like faery wings on a summer night full of fireflies and starlights in the night sky. She had long, dark hair that was a luminous shade, and naturally tanned skin, the color of a deer's fur.

What was most horrible about the whole thing was that everyone smelled _delectable_.

I wanted that map or directions or anything fast, so I could get out of here. I didn't want that Harry guy to come back, either...he creeped me out. Did he really know what and who I was? Did he believe I was a lost teen in the woods? I didn't think so...and I didn't want to hurt Charlene, but next time I laid eyes on him, I'd glare at him and scare the freakin' _wits_ out of him. That sort of slang and funny talk to myself really was my only entertainment.

"So let me get some of my homemade soup and carrot cake for you. You really should eat something, dear. You need some energy, and something to give some color to those cheeks...you're paler than a ghost!"

_Maybe I am one,_ I thought. I chuckled lightly to myself. _You can never be sure..._

"Sit down, child. Relax—we don't bite." Tabitha told me, smiling.

I tried to smile back, but _bite_ just didn't make me feel comfortable.

"Tabitha, dear, you know what she is, don't you?" Denise leaned toward her friend and whispered under her breath. "Don't you see those eyes, the perfect teeth, and the breathtaking beauty?" She paused at Tabitha's loss for words, and continued. "She smells...of blood."

"Don't be silly, Denise," Tabitha scoffed, smiling playfully at her friend. "You're not letting your tribe legends get to you, are you?"

"They're not legends, Tabby," Ginny leaned into the table, and joined the conversation as well. "Look at those crimson eyes. How do you think she got that? Touch her. I dare you to touch her. Feel the marble, stone hard skin, cold as ice. And I'd bet you anything she can hear every word I'm saying."

They were old ladies, but if I closed my eyes, I would have imagined them as gossipy, feuding teenage girls.

Tabitha looked at me kindly, that sparkle in her eye again. "I'm sorry—my sisters were being extremely rude. Please sit down..." She pulled a small stool out from under the table, and put it at the front of the table, front and center. I would have to stare into every old lady's eyes.

"So, my dear, how old are you?"

I never looked my age of thirteen years; I looked more like fifteen, and in my vampire body, I could probably pass for sixteen. I answered Denise's question with a smile, and "I'm fourteen". It wasn't much of a lie...but it was.

"No, I mean truthfully. How many years have you walked this earth?"

I was a little shocked by bold Denise's questions. "I told you. Fourteen."

I needed to fill the uncomfortable bit of time. I sat down carefully—I didn't want to break their little general store, which looked as if it would fall apart any minute now with or without my help—and looked curiously around the circle of people.

It was then I noticed how Wren was glaring at me angrily. She held a cup of hot, steaming coffee in her clasped hands, and the steam meandered its way to her face slowly. Her eyes, dark and black, stared at me from under the steam. I tried to stare back, but I couldn't...something willed me to act more human than vampire around these people.

"Are you sure? I was thinking maybe...a century, or two. Though that's a little much for someone as clueless as you...no offense, you just don't seem completely knowledgeable for your kind. Fifty years? Much more than fourteen years, though."

Denise was really frightening me. Besides her and Wren, Maybeth stared at me intently, as if disgusted with me. Tabitha seemed clueless to me, as well as Charlotte, who hadn't said anything, and Ginny was silent as she focused on her piece of work. Charlene seemed that way as well—so why did Denise, Maybeth and Wren not trust me?

"I'm-young, I...I...really, I'm not a half a century old! I, I don't know where you got that idea!"

My smooth, even voice was nearly impossible to crack and stutter, but I managed it anyway.

"Denise! Stop that, you're frightening the poor girl!" Charlotte cried. "You just don't listen to her, you hear?" She told me. I nodded slowly. "She's taken her heritage too seriously."

But Denise wasn't finished. "Oh, she's fine...I mean, at least she didn't go down the road some more and wind up in La Push...why, then she would have been torn to pieces." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "They don't like people like you around there."

I nodded again, a little quicker this time, but not at the speed I'd normally move at. La Push...a place where they knew about vampires? A place where they could _destroy_ vampires? I hadn't checked this, but I bet bullets could bounce off my skin!

Tabitha spoke up. "Now, who wouldn't like you? You're a perfectly nice, beautiful young girl!" She eyed Denise. "Now, where's Charlene with that food?"

As she spoke, Charlene bustled out of the kitchen with a huge bowl of soup and a large piece of a brown cake with white frosting on it. She laid the meal in front of me, and I sniffed it experimentally.

"Oh, thank you...it smells delicious!"

It honestly didn't. They honestly _did_.

Denise eyed me suspiciously. To prove my excitement about the food, I took a huge spoonful of soup and slurped it down.

It tasted _disgusting_.

I had never eaten human food as a vampire, and my god, did it taste _nasty_! The soup slid down my throat like gunk, and tasted like the time I had gone into the kitchen and drank some of my mother's cooking oil. It took all of my willpower to smile, take another huge spoonful, and stick it in my mouth. A few more spoonfuls—smaller then the first—were hurriedly shoved into my mouth as I picked up the bowl. I made sure to casually let some soup fall out—I really thought I was going to puke, and I didn't know that vampires could puke—as I "accidentally" let the ball fall to the floor.

I gasped. "Oh, no! I'm so, so, sorry! I'm so careless, I, I..."

Denise scowled. "Of course you are."

I shook my head and held up my hands in protest. "Really! Truly! But at least I still have my carrot cake..."

Just couldn't wait to try that.

"Yes, dear, oh, well, accidents happen...at least you didn't get any food on yourself. And you do have the carrot cake!" Tabitha reached out and grasped my hand.

She pulled back in surprise. I put my hand to my mouth in mock surprise and real concern, my wide eyes on Tabitha.

"What...what's the matter?"

I put concern in every word out of my mouth, and my eyes focused on her. The truth was, the concern was for myself...the contact with my skin could have proven Denise right, and she would have turned against me too...

What was up with me, worrying about old ladies hating me because they knew I was a vampire? Old ladies?! I was becoming quite...amusing.

Wren got out of her chair, strode around the table, and faced me. "We know who you are, bloodsucker," She snarled. "and I'm warning you, there are things out there that _can_ destroy you. And let me assure you," She laughed, the same tinkling laugh that I'd heard as I entered the store, with a much darker, meaningful tone. "they will."

"Wren!" Charlene exclaimed. "You do not believe your father's stories, are you? Those are tales, Wren, not history!"

I stared into every face, horrified and scared, unsure and discovered. What was going on?! What were these legends the women kept talking about? Why did some believe the tales, and some didn't?

"She's confused,"

All eyes turned to Ginny. The small woman was still crocheting, her eyes set on her lap, where a neat pile of woven strings had gathered. Her mouth was set in a frail line, the same line that I had thought would never open into an oval, but instead of staying closed, it opened again.

"What is your name?"

"Kayla," I replied, staring into Ginny's dark eyes.

"And how old are you, fully?"

"Fourteen,"

"You have much self restraint, Kayla. I must smell delicious, yet you haven't sunk your teeth into me."

"Um...thank you,"

"You're welcome. Now, Kayla, you are new to your life, are you not?"

"Yes,"

"I thought so. You are careless enough to wander so close to Quileute territory, the sole haters of the Cold Ones, and then enter a town. Even with your acting job, I don't think that you'd ever get past one of us..."

I was still confused, but I got the sense that "Cold Ones" were vampires, and Quileutes were a tribe of Native Americans. I had studied American Indians in sixth grade, and I knew most of the tribes across the Unites States...but I had never heard of the Quileutes.

"The Quileutes, a tribe of natives of little fame, have always hated the Cold Ones, and passed down their legends to the children of the tribe. Ever elder believes them, for they have seen the proof of them years before. But once outsiders marry into the Quileute tribe, they do not believe in what we have kept alive for hundreds of years."

"So...you, Denise, Maybeth and Wren believe the legends?"

"Yes. You listen well, Kayla. You also have become spared—the river is the boundary line. Follow it and you will reach Forks, and also...something else."

I still had so many more questions, but I was afraid that any sort of additional question would surely get me into worse trouble.

Then again, the "something else" seemed bad enough. It could be another Quileute legend—and seeing my current state, I wouldn't be surprised if Santa turned out to be real. Of course...Santa didn't have the ability to run miles in a matter of seconds, crush metal with a movement of the finger, and live forever.

I nodded. "The river?"

"It's a little ways from the town—you'll find it easy enough with those ears of yours."

"Now go. Before your self restraint collapses altogether." Denise scowled, her eyes still held in a glare. I followed instructions, and before they blinked, had left the store, but did not leave the little town completely. I stood on the edge of the forest, straining my ears to hear the conversation after I left.

"Why did you send her to the Cullens, Ginny?" Wren demanded.

"Because. She is no more than a year old of great self-discipline that many of those bloodthirsty creatures out there lack. We should give her a chance. Everyone deserves a chance."

"You're too nice. She's not like _everyone_—she's a vampire! Vampire's don't deserve _chances_!" Denise was as furious as Wren. I could imagine her face brimming with rage, just like when she had looked at me the moment I had stepped into the same building as her.

"Ginny was right to do that! She can't possibly be a...vampire, Denise. She's a girl, not a fairytale!"

"They're not fairytales, Charlotte. They're...horror stories."

"Maybeth, you just believe too much. I told you when we were twenty that someday you'd loose your mind and I knew it was coming soon enough..."

Charlotte's silence had obviously been not normal while I had the short visit to the women. Listening for anything more about me, I found all the conversation Charlotte gossiping about newspaper articles from the previous week and all her grandchildren from La Push, the reservation down right along the beach...where I wanted to avoid.

I left and started to find the river, which, with my ears, found quite easily, as Charlotte had told me I would.

I knew I was waiting for the Cullens...as Wren had kindly told me the name of them, at least. I didn't know what to expect, but _chance_ had me hoping for something positive. Positive for me, at least. Maybe my destruction would be better for the world. Ginny said everyone deserved a chance...what did that mean? Chance as in, second chance, or chance as in...chance to do something? Or...to have something happen to me?

At human pace I walked along the river. I watched and listened for anything that might mean activity, human or immortal. I could never be sure these days—what the world told the public was usually not what really happened, and what humans saw with their own two eyes was just simplified down to something reasonable that they could mull over.

At human pace or vampire pace I could take in the details of my surroundings, and before I knew it, I was lost in the overcast, wet, muddy forest of the town of Forks. Ever slight crack of twigs or swoosh of air I felt made me aware if what surrounded me in more, preparing myself for whomever the Cullens were and whatever they would dish out on me.

So I don't know how I was caught off guard when something—or _some things_—slammed into me.


End file.
